scars ej
by endlosesblau
Summary: 'Despite how tiny he looked, Eric van der Woodsen wasn't made of glass, Jonathan knew that. So, when his fingertips accidentally brush over the scars at Eric's wrists, he can't help but feel shocked.'


**Scars**

**Pairing:** Eric/Jonathan

**Author: **endlosesblau

**Chapter:** 1/1

**Wordcount:** 667

**Rating:** PG-13 (Not really sure, because I'm not quite used to the system yet.)

**Warning:** Spoilers up to the season finale.

**Summary:** Set after the season two finale. Jonathan finds out about Eric's suicide attempt. _Despite how tiny he looked, Eric van der Woodsen wasn't made of glass, Jonathan knew that. So, when his fingertips accidentally brush over the scars at Eric's wrists, he can't help but feel shocked._

**Disclaimer:** Neither Gossip Girl, nor Eric or Jonathan are mine. No money is made by this.

**Author's Note:** No Beta-Reader (still searchin' for one, anyone interested?) and English isn't my mother language. Oh, and I only started writing fanfictions, so I'm a beginner.

Despite how tiny he looks, Eric van der Woodsen isn't made of glass, Jonathan knows that. He has watched Eric's insane family break down again and again, Lily and the whole Bart-Rufus-Bart-Rufus-Drama, Serena, who still has to learn that smiling towards the world doesn't mean the world is smiling back for sure, Chuck, who, well, is just Chuck Bass, far more fragile on the inside than one would think, and Jenny and Dan, both pretending not to belong to the upper east side while they actually do as much as anyone else. And Jonathan has watched Eric standing next to his mother, sister, stepbrother, stepfather, and his soon-to-be stepsiblings and stepfather, standing tall through all this drama, always strong, always the one left to clean the mess.

He admires and loves his boyfriend for this strength, and somehow it makes him feel secure to know that whenever he's going to mess up again – because he is, and he knows that, someday he is – Eric will be there for him. So, when his fingertips accidentally brush over the scars at Eric's wrists, he can't help but feel shocked.

It is the night after the whole -disaster, and somehow they have managed to get into Eric's room without meeting anyone of the van-der-Woodsen-Bass-Humphrey-family, which Jonathan feels incredibly grateful for, because clearly the events of the past day have changed the way people look at him. From now on, he's going to be "the guy who managed to hack into ", and he'll probably never forget Chuck Basses eyes when the older boy looked at his – Jonathan's – mobile phone, they're going to haunt him in his nightmares.

They've entered Eric's room without stopping to search for the light switch, and there they are, the oh-so-old-fashioned butterflies, when Jonathan leans forward to kiss Eric. He has got absolutely no idea where they're going to end tonight, and he doesn't really care anymore. There's Eric, and there's him, and nothing else matters right now. They're going to be alright, he's pretty sure, he thinks, and than he stops thinking, because there is Eric's bed, a little too small for two persons, but somehow they manage, and then there are his boyfriend's hands are unbuttoning his shirt, and Jonathan is surprised to feel them shaking as least as much as his own. Strong, tall-standing Eric – afraid? So, he hesitates for a moment, taking Eric's small hands inside his own, and that's when it happens.

Scars. Jonathan feels them, and there is nothing to question, he knows, and he knows that Eric knows that he knows, because he suddenly finds his hands empty, and he can feel Eric curling into a ball right beneath him, which is a little uncomfortable, because the bed is too small, and they're both still dressed.

It's silent, and it feels like someone has tried to shoot the butterflies. Eric doesn't make a sound, probably holding his breath, waiting for what's going to happen next. And Jonathan doesn't know what to say, Eric has always been the better one with words, so, after a few moments which feel like half an eternity, he just takes the blankets he can barely see in the semi-dark room, and spreads it about the both of them. He doesn't care that they're both still dressed, and that the bed is too small for him to lie comfortably, and he definetlydefinetlydefinetly doesn't (want to) care about the thoughts racing trough his brain, where worry mixes with fear (because this is Eric and isn't Eric supposed to be the strong one of them?), and insecurity, smiling evil, sends these little voices, the what-ifs and can-you-really-be-what-he-needs and can-you-even-be-anything?

He just lies there, for minutes, hours, listening to Eric's breath, which has now returned to normal. He feels the body of the smaller boy relaxing, and finally, finally he dares to touch Eric again, lets his fingertips brush his face, and he curls up against his boyfriend protectively.

He isn't going anywhere.


End file.
